


My Regret

by mothstars



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Incest, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Sexual Abuse, Smoking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, hope i got all the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothstars/pseuds/mothstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened when Wallace was 14. He exhaled the smoke as his father approached him, his father's fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. Wallace didn't flinch when the cigarette was pulled from in between his lips and tossed to the floor, he didn't flinch when his father raised a fist and brought it down hard against his left cheek. This was Normal. It was okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Regret

 

It happened when Wallace was 14. He exhaled the smoke as his father approached him, his father's fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. Wallace didn't flinch when the cigarette was pulled from in between his lips and tossed to the floor, he didn't flinch when his father raised a fist and brought it down hard against his left cheek. This was Normal. It was okay.

Yes, it was normal. He would smoke, get caught, get beaten for misbehaving, rinse and repeat. It was a never ending cycle he had gotten himself into and he now didn't have the willpower to quit.

But it was okay, Wallace thought. He accepted that all he was going to get was his cycle of misery. He was okay with that, he thought, as long as he had family at all, it was more than he could even ask for. He had his father, his foster mother, and his older brother. Sure, they had their problems, but it was a family nonetheless. So he should be content, shouldn't he?

_He wasn't._

He hated every second of it. He hated the stench of his fathers cologne, he hated that angry face, he hated that his father was pinning him to the floor and he hated how he didn't even struggle when clothes are removed, didn't struggle as he feels his father spread his legs and push something long and hard into him. He felt disgusted, violated, like he was some kind of object.

A hand clapped over Wallace's mouth before he could scream for help, his father leaning close to whisper in his ear threateningly, it sent shivers down his spine.

_"You should be grateful I haven't killed you."_

There was a whimper of a response, tears starting to form in his eyes as his father started to move, the pace fast and harsh and all Wallace wanted was for this to end. He wasn't grateful, he thought, death would be better than this.

After his father was finished, he pulled back, pulling his pants up and doing them up as Wallace gasped for breath, tears clouding his vision.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, twitching and gasping out sobs, it hurt, both physically and mentally, it hurt to be used by someone, it was exhausting and it hurt and he hated it.

Wallace hated his father. He hated his father's guts. He wished his father would rot in hell. But he still, he still tried to make peace.

He tried to get along with his father, he tried to smile around him and pretend that his family wasn't fucked up. Tried to pretend that he was okay, that nothing hurt and that he wasn't broken inside. It was hard, he didn't like how hard it was to keep it together.

The only good thing, he decided, was Nicolas. Nicolas was his friend, he had saved him and they were close now. Not only was Nicolas Wallace's body guard, but his only real friend too. Nicolas was quiet, and a bit odd, but Wallace liked him nonetheless. He learned to like the way he talked and he liked his awkward quirks.

But he hardly told Nicolas the tip of the iceberg when it came to what his father did to him. He couldn't, he was sure his father would kill him if he talked about it. So he stayed quiet. He stayed safe.

Or, so he thought.  
  
He had gotten caught smoking again, his father raised his fist and slammed it down against Wallace's face. He was sure his nose was broken from the crack he felt and the blood trickling from his nose. There were tears in his eyes as his father took one of the lit cigarettes and held it up. Wallace's eyes grew wide, a whimper escaping as he pleaded for his father to stop.

That's when he saw Nicolas. Nicolas was standing in the doorway watching and all Wallace could think to do was to beg for help. It was just two words, two words that would change his life.

_"Save me."_

From there it was all to fast, a scream ripped from his throat as a burning sensation hit his left eye, followed by the splatter of blood.

Wallace wasn't sure how it all happened, was sure he blacked out at some point, because what he does remember was blinking awake to his father covered in blood, Nicolas gone, and all feeling in his left eye gone with him.

He searched for Nicolas everywhere, and when he finally found him the bastard was on the verge on taking his own life along with all the others he had taken.

Wallace acted fast, smacking the sword shard from Nicolas's hands and pinning him to the floor. He screamed at him, words that not only were meant for Nicolas but also himself.

It hurt, he had everything. He had a family, even if it wasn't perfect. He felt guilty. It was his fault, wasn't it? His fault they died, his fault Nicolas would have to live with this, his fault his father abused him all those years. It was all him. There was a lot of things he blamed himself for, a lot of things he was sure if he did differently his family would still be alive, still be happy and angry and sad but most of all alive.

 

But at the same time, his only regret was that he didn't kill them himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly just a vent for emotions and processing feelings. It's not great but this is really personal for me so I love it? Idk. I hope you all like it though!!! I might write something fluffy for Worick later on to make up for this, who knows!


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